


we'll lie another day

by eururong



Category: EXO (Band), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Demons, M/M, Psychological Horror, Soul Selling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-15 10:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eururong/pseuds/eururong
Summary: Jongin hadn’t been thinking the night he met the man in black and sold his soul to bring his husband back from the dead. But their new lease on life tastes like ashes in his mouth, and Jongin’s unsure he got what he was promised.





	we'll lie another day

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  moodboard by the lovely [kaifectionary mods ](https://twitter.com/kaifectionery)
> 
> **warnings for: angst, light-horror, and major character death (although mostly implied)**  
>  demon and soul-selling lore lifted from the tv series 'supernatural'  
> title from [desert song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igkWt0cjgvU) by my chemical romance
> 
>   
> major thanks and props to yoshi for beta-ing!  
> this fic was an utter rollercoaster ride ([exhibit a](https://ibb.co/ecf4N6)), and although i'm not the happiest author, i made it, ma!!  
> to the prompter: i'm sure this is 1000% different than anything you expected, but if you can enjoy it even the slightest bit, i'll be grateful. 

Outside the bedroom window, a warm breeze ruffles the leaves on an oak. The sun is just beginning to set and a deep orange tints the skyline. 

If Jongin closes his eyes tight, he can remember the warmth of Minseok’s body when he embraces him from behind. He can remember warm breath on the back of his neck and a soft whisper in his ear. 

_I'll take care of you._

_I hate to see you sad, Nini. I’ll always look after you._

Jongin runs his fingers down the smooth, supple skin of Minseok’s cheek. It’s still soft, but so cold. His fingertips are shaking, the tremors spreading until they wrack his entire body. Desperately, he clutches Minseok’s hand to his chest as he lets the sobs overtake him. But there are no tears left to be spared, as Jongin’s eyes have already run dry.  

How is Minseok supposed to take care of him if he’s gone? How is Jongin supposed to live without him?

\---

Jongin had called no one. By the time the sun had fully set he was on the road, going nowhere and anywhere. For the first few hours, Jongin had screamed until his throat was as sore as his eyes. After that, driving down the backroads became oddly peaceful. He found his mind drifting and distracted, paying more attention to the view outside of his window than to what had his heart down by his knees and his stomach in knots.

The sun is high and hot when Jongin stops at the small pub, more of a rundown shack than anything else. A neon sign barely clings to the siding, looking like one good gust of wind can send it tumbling down. There's nothing surrounding the pub, just field upon field of small, white flowers that sway in the wind and release a pleasant, spicy smell. 

Jongin steps inside and hovers by the door, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. It's practically empty - two gruff looking men sitting at a table by the jukebox and another at the bar. He sticks out like a sore thumb in there with his sweatpants and sleep shirt, both horribly wrinkled. After driving for ten hours straight, his smell, however, doesn't seem to be far off the mark. 

He collapses into a chair at the bar, waves the bartender over and orders a whiskey double. Head pounding, Jongin knocks the drink back as soon as it's in front of him, managing to fish a twenty out of his wallet. 

"You look like you wish you were a ghost," A smug voice says over his shoulder. Jongin turns and sees a boy with fiery red hair, a self-assured smirk, and a pinstriped suit. He’s shorter than Jongin, and slighter, but his charisma takes up the entire room. The men by the jukebox, who hadn't moved since Jongin entered the bar, look at the boy with a mixture of shock and disgust. He slinks into the stool next to Jongin easily. 

"I'll have whatever he had," The boy says to the bartender, who eyes him skeptically, "And get another for him, while you're at it." 

"Do I know you?" Jongin blurts. The boy laughs loudly, mouth gaping wide and eyes turning into thin lines. 

He produces a credit card with slim fingers while reaching for his drink. 

"No cards." The bartender barks, unimpressed. 

"Oh dear," The red-head drawls, looking at Jongin with what can only be described as puppy-dog eyes, "I'm afraid I don't have any cash." 

With a sigh, Jongin pulls out another bill and hands it over to the bartender. He rolls his eyes and backs away, moving back down to the end of the bar with the burly man drinking a bottle of beer. 

The boy doesn't drink his whiskey in one shot. Sipping at it, he lets the flavors roll over his tongue before letting the corners of his mouth turn down in disgust. "They really give you the cheap stuff here," He comments in a stage whisper, and Jongin sees the bartender's knuckles turn white where he grips the counter. 

Rubbing at the stubble that's emerged on his upper lip and chin, Jongin debates drinking what's in front of him. "You didn't answer my question." 

"Oh, yeah. No, you don't know me. But you wish you did." The boy winks before downing the rest of his whiskey. He groans at the taste. 

Jongin shifts in his seat at the words. "Why is that?" 

"Because you don't look like you're ready to spend the rest of your life alone. I can help with that.”  

Glancing from his now empty glass to Jongin's, the boy smiles, all of his perfect white teeth on display. "You gonna drink that?"

\---

Jongin looks down at the metal tin balancing on the curve of his knee and at the hodgepodge of items inside. Some dirt from a nearby graveyard, a burned flower from one of the fields, a polaroid photograph of himself, courtesy of the boy from the bar, and the leg bone of a cat. The cat bone had been particularly disturbing, but the boy had seemed to find it with no problem in the brush of the graveyard.

“What the hell is this supposed to do?” Jongin asks, looking over at the boy in his passenger seat. 

He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Like I told you before, Jongin, you don't want to spend the rest of your days alone, and this will help. Take the tin, drive straight down this dirt road until you get to the crossroads. Bury it in the dead center. And I mean dead center. And then this'll all make sense." 

Bury it dead center? This old tin with dirt and bones and his photograph? Jongin watches as the boy opens the car door and exits, brushing off his suit jacket when he stands. 

"Wait -" Jongin calls out, "Who are you?" 

The red-head smiles and gives a wink before taking a step back. "Wouldn't you love to know?" 

The door slams shut, and Jongin watches as he walks away. When he checks the rearview mirror, however, there's no one there. It's just Jongin, his car, and the flowers.

\---

The crossroads is twenty steps wide in any direction. Jongin counts ten steps and crouches, digging at the dirt with his bare hands. He feels pebbles and soil get caught beneath his nails. Digging just deep enough for him to fit the tin, he quickly covers it with the loose dirt and pats down for good measure.

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind blows, making the hair at the back of Jongin's neck stand at attention. Goosebumps raise on his skin and he feels a slow throbbing in the base of his skull. When he finally stands, there's a man at the edge of the crossroads in the tall grass. Slowly, he walks towards Jongin. 

The moon shines brightly enough that Jongin can make out his features clearly - smooth, pale skin, thick eyebrows, wide eyes and thick lips. With his jet-black hair and suit, he almost appears to be a disembodied head floating in the dark. And just like the boy in the bar, he's young. The way he carries himself, however, makes Jongin feel like he's someone to be respected. Maybe even feared. 

"You rang?" His voice is deep and velvety. Jongin looks over his shoulders, sees no one and nothing aside from his own car. “You. I’m talking to you." 

"I - I didn't..." Jongin stammers, taking one step back for every step the man takes toward him. The pain in his head intensifies and he feels fear and panic creeping up his spine and leaving a cold sweat in their wake. 

"You did call for me. That's your summoning ritual right here in the dirt. You look much better than your picture, though," Eyeing Jongin skeptically, the man sighs and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, "I see. Baekhyun didn't explain again. Not a problem." 

Jongin's breath becomes erratic and sweat beads at the corner of his temples. The man licks his lips and tilts his head, considering Jongin for a long moment. 

"Your husband is dead, isn't he?" A wave of nausea washes over Jongin at the words, "Like Baekhyun told you, you don't need to live the rest of your days alone." 

"How?" Jongin manages to croak, fighting back the urge to heave, "How can you do it?" 

Perhaps it's a trick of the light or maybe Jongin's headache is just too severe. But he swears he sees the man's eyes flash red for just a second. "I have my ways," The man answers cryptically, taking quick steps to stand close to Jongin. 

"I'll give you ten years. Ten years with Minseok. You'll have ten long years to hold him and to be held. To wake next to him every morning and fall asleep with him at your side every night. Ten years to call him yours again.”  

The man’s voice is so deep and sweet that Jongin feels as if he's wading into warm, warm water. His eyes close shut and he pictures everything the man is saying and it’s as if his heart will swell until it bursts. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. 

"You're too weak to go on without him," The man's voice is cold now, hard, and Jongin's eyes fly open. There's no trace of emotion on the man's face, “C’mon. We both know he was always the talented one. The stronger one. Always taking care of you, making you feel loved, making you feel wanted. So, in ten years, I'll come for you and take you in his place. And he'll live and move on. And you know he deserves it more than you." 

It's finally too much - hot tears are spilling over Jongin's cheeks. If the man feels sorry for him, he doesn't show it. Jongin chokes on his sobs, trying to muffle them. 

"Tell me what I have to do," Jongin finally gasps, digging his nails into his own arms, "Just tell me and I'll do it." 

A smirk slowly graces the man's face as he moves closer, and yes, Jongin had seen right before. His eyes are red. 

"Kiss me.”

\---

The eleven-hour drive home passes as a blur. Adrenaline and fear help keep Jongin awake because when his eyes slip closed for a beat too long, the image of the red-eyed man at the crossroads burns hot enough in his mind to pry him from sleep. His hands quake on the steering wheel.

In the early morning, when the sun is bright but the air still cool, he pulls up to the apartment he and Minseok had shared. When Jongin enters, Minseok is curled on the couch. He’s taken the bedding from their bed and brought it with him, tangled in their comforter. Even from the doorway, Jongin can see the rise and fall of the blanket with every breath that Minseok takes.

Jongin can't breathe, can't think. He feels like he wants to cry but no tears will come. He wants to scream but can't find his voice.

It can't be real, it just _can't_.

He had wanted to believe the words of the man in black so badly the night before. He had wanted to believe that he could have Minseok back, if only for a short while. But now that he's faced with this reality, now that he stares at his once-dead husband, he's panicking. 

What could he say to him? Should he tell him about the deal he’d made? How can Jongin live with the memory of Minseok's dead body?

The man at the crossroads had been right after all - he was weak.

Minseok stirs awake, blinking slowly and looking around the room until his eyes settle on Jongin. Everything inside of Jongin breaks.

"Minseok..." Jongin whispers, his feet moving towards him without thinking.

Minseok sits upright on the sofa, clutching the comforter around him tightly. He smiles just slightly before standing to meet Jongin’s bone-crushing hug. 

“Nini, where were you?” Minseok mumbles against Jongin’s shoulder, lips chapped, “You’ve been gone literally all day. I was debating calling the cops.”

Jongin pulls back and cups Minseok’s cheeks in his hands. Minseok looks horribly confused, letting go of one side of the blanket to lay his hand over Jongin’s instead. He’s shirtless beneath the blanket, the smooth, pale skin of his torso visible. “Jongin, what’s wrong?”

“Minseok, tell me everything you remember,” Jongin chokes, eyes beginning to sting. “Every detail.”

Minseok only looks more confused, deep lines set in his brow. “Well, I remember going to bed and feeling so horrible. I felt like… well… I felt like I might die, really. And you took care of me during the night. I remember you kept using a damp cloth on me.”

The fear Jongin had felt during the night he kept vigil was still so real, and Jongin feels like he’s been thrown into ice water at the memory. “And then what?” Jongin prompts, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“And when I woke up again it was dark out… so I must have slept the whole day. You were gone but your phone was here, and I felt so much better… Where were you?” 

Minseok runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair, greasy and tangled. Jongin’s skin is still tacky with sweat, his fingers caked with dirt, his scent sour. 

Minseok had no memory of gasping for Jongin just moments before he died, hand going slack in Jongin’s own. No memories of his brief time in whatever afterlife he had went to. It’s a chance to start again, unmarred, and Jongin is grateful. 

He bites his lip, mind racing a mile a minute before he lies, “I was at the hospital. Hospitals. I was trying to get you medicine.”

“Medicine?” 

Jongin's throat is tight when he says, “I was worried. I was scared. And I should have taken you with me instead of leaving you alone, I’m sorry, Minseok.”

“It’s ok,” Minseok soothes, his hand pressing against Jongin’s more insistently, “I feel better now. Like brand new. Don’t cry. We could both use a shower, hm?”

Later, under the spray of the shower, Jongin decides in that moment, that Minseok will never know what he chose to do. Minseok didn’t deserve to have a cloud hanging over his very existence – feeling like he had in some way condemned Jongin himself. It was a sin, surely, to keep something like that from his husband. But what was another sin, when in ten years he’d be spending an eternity with the man in black? 

He peppers Minseok’s face with kisses, trailing along his jaw and neck. Every press of his lips an apology, a silent plea for forgiveness. After a few minutes, Minseok sucks his teeth and pushes Jongin away, washing himself. Jongin freezes for a moment, mind whirling at Minseok’s rebuff.

“What’s gotten into you, Jongin?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” He attempts to smile, letting his fingers trail down the smooth skin of Minseok’s back to the swell of his ass, “Just glad you’re feeling better.”

\---

The curtains wide open, Jongin’s wakes to the morning sun. Even with just a few hours of sleep under his belt, Jongin can feel the tension leaving his arms and shoulders and head. He peers over at Minseok, still sleeping deeply. 

Jongin stares at the ceiling and thinks about what had occurred the night before. Given everything that happened, Jongin’s not sure why he’s so surprised that life threw him yet another curveball. Minseok had actually stopped _breathing_ , and while Jongin was grateful he didn’t remember anything, it was perplexing.

But he can’t dwell on it any longer. He can feel himself starting to spiral, and it’s too early for such things. Jongin moves into the kitchen and starts the coffee pot, putting in Minseok’s favorite coffee. He starts to mix blueberry pancakes, Minseok’s favorite breakfast food.  

The coffee’s finished and Jongin’s made his first short stack when the bedroom door finally opens, a sleep-ruffled Minseok standing in the doorway. Taking in the image of his bedhead and swollen face, Jongin feels his heart clench.  

“Good morning, Minseok,” Jongin says with an attempted smile. 

Minseok nods and walks into the kitchen to press a kiss to Jongin’s cheek. “Good morning, Jongin. You’re up early… what a surprise." 

“Come sit,” He says quickly, gesturing at the kitchen table, “I made coffee and pancakes.”  

Without a word, Minseok sits, watching Jongin carefully as he makes his own coffee and pancakes. Jongin places them on the table and sits across from Minseok, stomach flopping with nerves. He finds himself chewing on his thumbnail to distract himself. 

“I don’t want blueberry,” Minseok whispers, looking up at Jongin. His eyes are apologetic and downcast. 

“What do you mean?” Jongin croaks, shifting in his seat. Palms sweaty, he rubs them against his thighs.  

“I - ” Minseok starts and frowns, one hand reaching up to pull at some strands of his hair.  

“You don’t want to eat them?” Jongin suggests, swallowing hard. To Jongin’s mortification, Minseok nods. 

“I really don’t like them,” Minseok finally says, his nose crinkled in distaste. The pit of Jongin’s stomach drops as he tries to process the information. It didn’t make any sense because Minseok loved blueberries. He put them in his pancakes, his yogurt, ate them for snacks in the late afternoon.  

But Jongin doesn’t argue, doesn’t know if he has the energy or the will. Instead he takes Minseok’s plate back to the kitchen without another word, pancakes untouched. He makes a new batch - plain - and tries to ignore Minseok’s curious stare over the breakfast bar. 

When he sets the pancakes in front of Minseok he devours them without shame or finesse, syrup dripping onto his chin and smeared on his cheek. Jongin decides to eat the blueberry so they don’t go to waste, but only manages to eat half, too consumed with the mess on Minseok’s face to have much of an appetite. 

Minseok’s dislike of blueberries and his messy eating is new, and to say that Jongin was confused would be an understatement.  

Although a bit grudgingly, Minseok helps him clean up. When Jongin brings the plates to the kitchen, Minseok stands in the doorway to the living room before joining him with a small noise of discontent. Jongin’s too uncomfortable to say much while they wash the dishes, and the silence that drags out is awkward.  

When they move to the sofa, Jongin picks up the remote and begins to flip through channels quickly. 

“What do you want to watch?” Jongin asks Minseok, forcing a small smile on his face. Pulling his knees to his chest, Minseok curls into himself and shrugs before giving Jongin an expectant look - one that says _I think you should decide_. Jongin flips for another minute or two before settling on a rerun of the drama that he and Minseok had been watching together on Monday nights.  

They get through a good chunk of the show before Jongin begins to realize that Minseok is laughing at things that aren’t meant to be funny and scoffing when certain characters come on screen. Jongin feels the prickling of self-consciousness begin to creep over his skin.  

“You don’t like this?” He eventually finds the courage to ask, peeking over at Minseok. Minseok shakes his head wildly and gives another laugh. He takes the remote from Jongin and begins to search a channel himself, finally settling on some nature documentary.  

While Minseok is consumed by the documentary’s explanation of the mating behavior of hermit crabs, Jongin sneaks away to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

Things this morning just seem strange, wrong, _off-kilter_. It’s just that Jongin doesn’t know _what_ exactly. He can’t manage to put his finger on it, but it’s there, just simmering beneath the surface. He needs a few moments to breathe.

Jongin runs the tap and splashes cold water on his face. He’s probably just being overly sensitive. He just needs a bit of sense talked into him. With damp hands, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, pulling up Sehun’s contact. His best friend for years, Sehun was someone who was willing to listen to all of Jongin’s ramblings but also able to talk sense into him. 

He presses call, and the phone rings and rings. Jongin mutters _pick up, pick up_ under his breath. But it goes to voicemail, and for a moment Jongin debates leaving a tense message before deciding better of it.  

When Jongin finally exits the bathroom, Minseok is still watching TV quietly. Jongin slips next to him, hoping that he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. Minseok takes a glance at him, and at the downward turn of his lips, Jongin knows he must.  

“Are you okay, Jongin?” Minseok asks. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jongin sighs. Minseok uncurls himself and puts his feet on the ground and one arm on the back of the sofa. He gestures for Jongin to come closer, and he does gratefully. Jongin rests against Minseok’s side and Minseok’s arm curls around Jongin’s shoulders. Minseok is so warm and sturdy, and he smells so good.

Why is he so worried? This is his husband – the love of his life. A few forgotten memories and a change in taste couldn’t change that. 

Minseok’s lips press against Jongin’s forehead, feather-light and barely there. His hand moves from Jongin's shoulders to the nape of his neck, pulling on the strands of hair ever so gently. Jongin tilts his head up so his lips can meet Minseok's and he whimpers as the kiss deepens. 

It's an easy, familiar fit, and Minseok holds him steady, drinking up every sound and touch as they kiss. This kiss, this feeling was a luxury Jongin hadn’t known he would ever experience again. Despite the flood of emotions rushing over him, Jongin feels grounded.  

That night, Minseok curls against Jongin’s back protectively, settling his forehead between Jongin’s shoulderblades. Surrounded and secure, sleep comes easy.

\---

It must be close to or even past noon when Jongin wakes, judging how high the sun is. His body is heavy, as if he’d slept for days and not hours. He feels Minseok shift beside him, still in bed as well. When Jongin turns to face Minseok, he looks wide-awake and freshly showered.

Minseok smiles and cups Jongin's cheek, and Jongin returns it gratefully.  

"How long have you been up?" Jongin asks, throat scratchy with sleep.  

“Couldn’t sleep much,” Minseok replies, letting his hand move to pet Jongin’s hair, “I woke up before dawn.” 

When Jongin looks at Minseok more closely, he can see a red tinge to his eyes. Minseok leans forward to kiss him then, and Jongin lets Minseok crowd him, on top and around as their lips work against each other.  

Their kiss turns fervent, teasing licks and nips that have Jongin’s head swimming. Minseok’s hands run over the length of Jongin’s body, from shoulders to hips and back again, leaving Jongin’s skin electrified. After days of feeling close to nothing, it’s overpowering. Jongin is already aching, his back arching, tiny sounds escaping the back of his throat. Minseok takes all of it and then some, letting their hips align and his lips travel down Jongin’s neck. 

It’s overwhelming and _fast_ \- Jongin can barely even process Minseok pulling at his clothing before they’re both naked, Minseok’s hands gripping Jongin’s ass before letting his fingers drag over his entrance. 

“Minseok-” Jongin gasps, his fingers digging into Minseok’s shoulders to leave red half-moons on the skin. Minseok doesn’t say anything but pushes a dry finger in. It feels good, but the sting has Jongin reaching blindly to the bedside table to find the lube, pushing it into Minseok’s hand. 

He preps Jongin quickly, one finger becoming two and then three. Minseok moves like a man starved, like every touch against Jongin’s skin is the first and last. The way he begins to move is almost brutal in its urgency, and it’s so unlike the way Minseok usually touches him with soft, lingering caresses. It feels good, _so good_ , and perhaps Jongin wishes he had a few more moments to savor this feeling, but he too just wants, wants, wants Minseok so badly. 

The blunt head of Minseok’s cock presses against his entrance for a long moment before he finally slips inside. Minseok’s teeth pull at the skin of Jongin’s shoulder, hard and then even harder so that Jongin is sure it'll leave a bruise. He pulls Jongin’s hips up and settles into a quick pace.  

The flash of alarm at being _taken_ fades to let pleasure and desire return. Minseok brushed against Jongin's prostate with every other thrust, leaving Jongin's cock weeping against his stomach. Their breathing changes to staccato gasps, punctuated by the slap of their hips meeting. Minseok's fingers dig into the flesh of Jongin's thighs, harsher and harsher.  

Jongin cries out Minseok's name helplessly as he comes untouched, cock spitting ropes of come onto his stomach and Minseok groans at the feeling of Jongin's hole clenching around him. 

His hands release Jongin's hips to press his palms flat against Jongin’s chest, pinning Jongin to the bed painfully as he quickens his pace, working towards his own release. When he comes, his mouth opens in a silent moan, eyes closed and face the picture of bliss.  

Minseok falls to the side, breathless with a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin. His fingers play in the come pooled in the dips of Jongin's abs. He gathers it and licks it from his fingers until there's barely any left, even bending over to lick Jongin's stomach clean. Jongin watches him, awestruck. Minseok never swallowed.  

With his head resting on Jongin's chest, Minseok looks up and asks, "Do you want to eat breakfast?"  

He's taken aback by the sudden question but Jongin nods and Minseok jumps from the bed and leaves for the kitchen, still completely naked. He wants to pull Minseok back into bed, to curl up together and doze again like they usually do on the weekends. 

He is hungry, though, and Minseok must be as well if he's been up as long as he says he's been. Jongin decides to stay in bed for a few moments longer. 

He hears the opening and closing of the fridge and cabinets from the kitchen in quick succession. His phone vibrates on the nightstand, and Jongin sees Sehun's name on the display.  

"Hello?"  

"Jongin! I saw you called yesterday. Sorry, I didn't get back to you, me and Junmyeon were out all day." 

"That's all right," Jongin sighs, hearing the fridge open and close again, "It was nothing, really." 

"How's your summer vacation going? How's Minseok doing?" 

Jongin thinks back to the trip to the beach he and Minseok had taken in early June, when it still had been a little too cold to go into the water. They had played in the sand instead and roamed the little beach town day after day. When they came back home, Minseok had fallen ill and fast - and though the doctors assured them both it was just a virus, he only got worse and worse. Jongin had called Sehun in a panic the afternoon before Minseok had passed away, who had assured him that everything would be okay.  

And then that fateful night a few days earlier when Jongin had listened to Minseok's rattling breaths all night long until they finally slowed and stopped.  

Jongin clears the lump in his throat, "Great. Minseok's... great. How about you?" 

“I’m alright. Listen, Jongin, are you okay?" Sehun's voice is worried, "You don't sound so good." 

A crash sounds from the kitchen and Jongin jumps up. "Yeah, I'm okay. I need to go through, I'll call you soon, Sehun." 

Minseok has entirely too many pots and pans and a bowl of raw scrambled eggs on the counter. He pulls the fork from the bowl when Jongin enters the kitchen and licks at the yolk clinging to the prongs of the fork. Unconsciously, Jongin takes a step back at the sight. 

"Are you... are you making eggs?" Jongin asks when he finally finds his voice. Minseok nods. He dips the fork back into the bowl and licks it clean again. "You know... you should cook the eggs. You could make yourself sick eating them like that." 

Minseok hums around the metal of the fork. "But they taste good. Have you ever had them this way before?" Another taste followed. 

"No," Jongin sighs. The scene suddenly hits him - both of them as naked as the day they were born, looking fucked out and sleep-ruffled, Minseok slowly eating all of the raw eggs in the bowl and the kitchen a disaster around him. "Minseok, I'll cook them if you don't want to. But you can't eat them raw." 

Anger flashes in Minseok's red, tired eyes and spreads across his face. His nostrils flare and his mouth flattens into a thin line, "Fine.” 

The process of actually cooking the eggs is noisy, with Minseok angrily slamming the pan onto the stove and whisking the bowl again with more force than necessary. The line of his back is drawn tight in anger, shoulders hunched.

Jongin slips away, surprised and a bit frightened by Minseok’s sudden outburst. He doesn’t miss how Minseok spills a bit of the egg on the counter and bends down to lick it up. Jongin returns to the bedroom to pull on a pair of sweats and a well-worn t-shirt, grabbing clothes for Minseok as well.  

He puts them on the back of one of the dining chairs and observes Minseok at the stove. The lean muscles in his back flex and ripple as he works at the stove and plucks toast from the toaster. He carries two plates of toast and eggs out, and Jongin tries but fails to keep his eyes from the now soft cock hanging between Minseok’s thighs. 

The anger from earlier is gone, and Minseok even looks a bit amused at Jongin’s staring. He settles the plates on the table and puts on in the loungewear Jongin brought for him. 

The scrambled eggs are frightful, made with too much salt and not enough butter. Minseok was always a lousy cook - at least that part hasn’t changed at all. But Jongin is honestly very hungry, so he finds himself eating it anyway. He tries to drown out the flavor with bland toast.  

Later in the day, they went to the superstore, running low on meat and vegetables. But Minseok only seems to be interested in the junk food that clogs the center aisles of the store - going down aisles he would normally never venture to. Jongin couldn’t do much but trail behind him, pushing the cart and watching helplessly as it gets filled with chips and other absolute crap. 

When they return home, Jongin goes to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner, and Minseok sits at his laptop. It’s the first time he’s touched it since - well, since - and Jongin is relieved that he seems to be easing back into something routine. Jongin works on a simple stir-fry recipe, one that they’ve eaten countless times. When it’s finished, Jongin wanders back into the living room. 

The page Minseok had been working on is still completely blank, his hands still resting in his lap. It’s eerily quiet. 

“Minseok?” Jongin says cautiously. Minseok looks over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Dinner’s ready.” 

They chatter a bit during dinner - Minseok tells Jongin about the interesting happenings he saw outside of the window, because apparently, he had done more spying than writing that afternoon. Jongin notices that Minseok doesn’t touch any of the vegetables or meat but eats every single grain of rice in his bowl.  

“Minseok, you should try to eat the stir-fry too…” Jongin says, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. “Just rice isn’t good for you.” Jongin had worked hard on it too, knowing that it was one of Minseok’s favorite dishes. His pride may be just a bit wounded. 

“Sorry,” Minseok says curtly. He pushes the food around in his bowl, pretending to eat until Jongin is finished and they clean up. 

Later, Minseok showers alone, and Jongin is curled on the bed waiting for him to finish. When the door to the bedroom opens again and Minseok enters, towel slung low on his waist and water still clinging to his skin. Jongin feels his mouth run dry at the sight, and Minseok smirks knowingly. 

His gaze turns predatory from where he stands, and it reminds Jongin of the look he had in the early afternoon when he pinned Jongin to the bed. A shiver runs down his spine and Jongin rushes to shower so he can clean himself. 

Again, Jongin can only say that they _fuck_. There's nothing sweet or loving about the way that Minseok takes him that night. This time, however, Minseok lets Jongin cuddle up against him when they’re through. Jongin rests his head on Minseok's chest and listens to his heartbeat, counting the thumps.

It's a strange hour when Jongin is jostled awake by Minseok slipping away to sit at the edge of the bed. It's still so dark in their room that it must still hours before dawn. He doesn't manage to stay awake for long, just long enough to watch Minseok cradle his head in his hands for a long moment.

\---

The weeks pass by with that troubled unbalance, with the feeling that one thing could tip the scales.

With Jongin out of work for the summer, he has little excuse to leave the apartment, aside from errands and the occasional lunch date. It means he becomes hyperaware of the way Minseok sleeps less and less, tossing and turning during the night until he slips from bed. And now that he’s eating so little, he realizes how slim Minseok gets and how _quickly_ his cheekbones become more prominent than ever now that he refuses to touch almost anything Jongin prepares.

Jongin learns how to walk around Minseok on eggshells – like when he gets an angry phone call from his editor about the lack of progress on his novel, or when Jongin asks him to help around the house. Jongin learns how to avoid him until the waves of unmanageable anger retreat.

He eventually even becomes used to sleeping alone, with Minseok slipping away night after night.

Frankly, Jongin thinks he’s adjusting pretty well to the changes in his life, but then he just _breaks_. 

When it finally happens it’s sudden and frightening, as Minseok pounds into him from behind. Every inch of Jongin aches, and he’s sure he’ll wake up with bruises on his ass later. His cock is hard and heavy and wet when it brushes against his inner thighs. And then, Minseok’s palm presses Jongin’s head into the pillow. For a moment, he doesn’t think much of it, until pain flares up his neck and has him gasping in shock. But Minseok only presses harder, his grip tight. 

“Stop!” Jongin chokes before he bursts into fat, ugly tears - heaving sobs that wrack his body. 

Minseok slows down and stops, removing his hand from Jongin’s head and pulling out completely.

“Jongin,” He says quietly, resting a hand on Jongin’s lower back. But Jongin curls up, fingers twisting into the bedding and taking deep breaths. He feels Minseok move from the bed, coming back a few moments later with a bunch of tissues to wipe between Jongin’s legs. 

Minseok moves to cradle him from behind, touch so gentle, and such a contrast from earlier, that it moves Jongin to tears again.

“What’s wrong?”

Jongin wants to scream and shout at Minseok until he understands. _You came back and all the little things are different. I feel like you don’t care about how I feel. Sometimes, I’m scared of you._

But instead, he stays quiet, like the weak coward he knows he is. 

Minseok makes breakfast in the morning. Neither of them had spoken about the night before. Before, Jongin would have expected Minseok to broach the subject before they even stumbled out of bed with gentle touches and questions. But now... Jongin didn't expect him to do any of the things he used to do anymore.

"I'm going out for lunch with Sehun today," Jongin mumbles around a mouthful of toast. He can’t seem to meet Minseok’s eyes. Minseok had made scrambled eggs and toast again this morning. There was no improvement from weeks earlier.

"Will you be home for dinner?" Minseok asks, scooping up the last of his eggs. Minseok finished much earlier than Jongin, something that had become the new norm. Jongin nods. "Well, I hope you have fun. I'll try and work, I guess."

\---

Jongin and Sehun meet at a small retro-style diner not that far from both of their places.

"I was wondering when you were going to meet me. I've been worried," Sehun says as soon as Jongin sits down, skipping any pleasantries.

Jongin reaches for a menu and pointedly ignores Sehun's gaze. "Why have you been worried?"

"Just a feeling."

One of Jongin's oldest friends, he met Sehun in his freshman year of college. The both of them had been bright eyed and full of dreams, hoping to join the biggest dance studios and choreograph for the biggest artists. Years of success and failure had brought them closer together. Now, over ten years later, Sehun is still the first person Jongin can turn to.

They both place their orders and Jongin can't avoid looking at Sehun now. His best friend's face is pinched in concern, shoulders drawn up tight.

"Tell me what's going on, Jongin."

With a sigh, Jongin shakes his head and slumps back in his seat. "Even if I did, you wouldn't believe me."

Sehun lets the waitress place an order of fries on the table, and lets Jongin sprinkle them in salt before saying, "Try me. You know I believe all sorts of crazy things."

That was true. Sehun had always been interested in obscure or bizarre things. In college, he and another one of their friends, Jongdae, had been obsessed with traveling to far flung locations that were abandoned and rumored to be haunted. Urban exploration, they called it. Jongin remembers the long hours Sehun spent researching locations and editing his own footage of them. At the time, Jongin had teased the two of them mercilessly for it.

If it was anyone else, Jongin would be worried about Sehun turning the tables – taking the opportunity to harass Jongin a little himself. But Jongin knows Sehun is too good, too kind, too open-minded for that.

The silence has stretched for so long before Jongin finally speaks, voice croaking, “Minseok was dead. But now he’s not.”

Sehun observes him for a long moment, fry halfway to his mouth. “I’m assuming you had something to do with that?”

“I did."

It feels so strange to say it out loud to someone else. Beneath the anxiety, Jongin thinks there could also be relief. Sehun eats the fry in his hand, then another and another. Dread begins to claw its way into Jongin’s stomach during the silence. Sehun didn’t believe him, and probably thought he was crazy. He’d probably call the cops or some psych ward or – 

“I’ve read about something like that before,” Sehun finally whispers, “But that’s dealing with real dark shit, Jongin. You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious. And it _was_ dark.”

“Shit,” Sehun breathes, his eyes a mix of incredulous and terrified. Shaking his head, he brings one hand to rub at his eyes. “Shit, Jongin. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Jongin admits easily. He was selfish and pathetic, and there had been nothing in his mind that night aside from _Minseok, Minseok, Minseok_. “It’s not just that. I don’t…I don’t care about what I did. I can live with that. But Minseok… he’s not right, Sehun.”

A raised eyebrow from Sehun encourages Jongin to continue, telling Sehun everything that had happened over the past two weeks. He tells Sehun about the lack of sleep, the strange eating patterns, his anger, and the way he treated Jongin in bed. He can see Sehun’s eyes grow more and more sad as Jongin continues. When Jongin recounts his breakdown the night before, Sehun reaches out to cup his cheek, his touch familiar.

“It’s just, you spend years with someone and all the little things are all you have, you know?” Jongin says, question mostly rhetorical, but Sehun nods anyway. “The little things… they make or break you. And they’re fucking breaking me, Sehun. He’s Minseok, but, it’s also like I don’t even know him.”

“Jongin, I know you love Minseok and …after what you went through … you probably think having him in any way is better than not at all,” Sehun says gently, but the words still sting in their truth, “But that’s not true.”

“There’s nothing else I can do.”

"Go back to that thing… whatever it is." Sehun's hand holds Jongin's now, “And find out if there’s a way to set it right."

\---

Jongin doesn’t broach the subject that day. He comes home to Minseok sitting at the kitchen table, working on his computer. There’s a handful of used coffee mugs scattered around. 

“How’s it coming?” Jongin asks, trying to sound cheerful despite the weight he feels from his earlier conversation with Sehun. 

“Horrible,” Minseok snaps before turning his attention back to the screen. Jongin nods and goes to the living room alone. The TV is turned on, and even though Jongin’s eyes are trained on it, he doesn’t see much of it, the chatter of whatever program he was watching turning into white noise.  

Before they had left the diner, Jongin had given Sehun more details about how he met the thing at the crossroads. Sehun thought it could be a _demon_ , but said he would do more research. 

Apparently, there were books written about this, _grimoires_ , hundreds of years old. Books that taught you how to cast charms and spells, create amulet and talismans, and how to talk to and summon creatures of all sorts. Sehun said there was a small collection at the research university Junmyeon worked at that he could probably get his hands on over the weekend.  

The sound of Minseok’s laptop being slammed shut rings out, jolting Jongin away from his thoughts. The banging and clattering continues, and Jongin thinks it sounds like Minseok is destroying the kitchen. When it’s over, Jongin tenses up as he hears Minseok’s bare feet making their way into the living room. 

When he sits down next to Jongin, however, Minseok looks as calm as ever. 

“What’re we watching?” He asks, angling himself to wiggle his toes under Jongin’s thigh. 

“Uh,” Jongin croaks, “Some travel show, I guess?” 

Minseok hums and rests his head on the back of the sofa, letting one hand pull at the hair at Jongin’s nape as he watches quietly. 

Jongin doesn’t raise the subject the next day, either. Or the following.  

Soon, it’s Sunday night, and Jongin still hasn’t heard from Sehun yet. He’s manages to keep himself from Minseok in bed, however, by showering alone early and feigning sleep. It feels wrong to be evading his husband sexually like this, but Jongin can’t trust him anymore, and confronting him about it is just too much to handle. 

It’s close to 2am when Jongin wakes up, overcome by the urge to use the bathroom. The bed next to him is empty, not totally unusual. 

When Jongin steps to the doorway between the living room and the bedroom, he’s horrified by what he sees. Minseok’s back is facing him, but he is surrounded by hundreds of book pages, neatly ripped from their spines. He’s still working methodically, tearing out each page of the book in his hand with precise, routine movements.  

“What are you doing?” Jongin asks when Minseok has finally ripped out the last page in the book, tossing the cover to the side. Minseok glances over his shoulder but doesn’t look remotely surprised by Jongin being there. He also doesn’t say anything, turning back around and reaching for another book. He opens the first page and the sound of paper slowly tearing gives Jongin goosebumps.  

“What books are those?” Jongin asks, shifting his weight nervously. 

“The ones I wrote.” 

“Why are you ripping them apart?”  

Again, there’s no answer from Minseok. One after another, the pages get ripped, ripped, ripped. There’s a bit of fear at seeing Minseok so unhinged, but Jongin swallows it down and tiptoes through the living room and down the hall to the bathroom. He spends longer than necessary in the bathroom, studying his face in the mirror and watching his hands shake. Fear twisting in his stomach, Jongin steels himself to face Minseok again. 

When he makes his way through the living room this time, Minseok doesn’t even turn to look at him, still ripping. Jongin closes the bedroom door softly and debates with himself for a moment, a moment longer than he’d like to admit, before deciding after all to leave it unlocked. 

He crawls back into bed with his heart hammering in his chest.

\---

**sehun [11:12am]**  
hey i found something interesting  
not a lot of detail but   
can you talk?

 **jongin [12:10pm]**  
yeah 

Jongin’s phone rings less than a minute later. The bed is still empty next to him. Jongin doubts that Minseok ever went back to sleep.

“Hello?”  

“Did you just wake up?” 

Jongin rubs the sleep out of his eyes and lies, “No.” 

“Liar,” Sehun chuckles, “So, I went to the library and Junmyeon managed to let me get my hands on the books by calling in a favor with one of his coworkers. Anyway, I found some info that could be useful.” 

“Okay, let me hear it.” 

Before Sehun continues, he heaves a loud sigh. “So. The thing you summoned _was_ a demon. All the things you put in that tin box were a classic summoning ritual. Burying it at those crossroads probably called upon the specific demon necessary to make a deal. And the grimoire I looked at had a small section about making deals with demons.” 

Jongin presses the phone closer to his ear, knees drawn up under his chin. “And what did it say?” 

“It said don’t do fucking it, basically,” Sehun groans before cursing under his breath. “Demons are assholes, Jongin. I mean, they’re just dark, malicious energy. Souls tortured for centuries until they’re just cruel. And whatever deal you make with them… they’ll make sure it won't go the way you want it to. You have to be really specific with your deals.” 

That was the very last thing Jongin had done. There was nothing specific about his request at all, and he had been taken a fool. Now he had screwed both him and Minseok. 

“You and Minseok have to go back there and try to get him to fix the deal. If Minseok what you said about Minseok is true, the ten years you bargained will be worth next to nothing anyway, Jongin. He’ll be a shell and you’ll be just as unhappy.” Sehun’s voice is firm, resolute, but Jongin can also hear the pity in his words. He chews on the nail of his thumb before replying. 

“I’m scared of telling him, Sehun.” 

“I’d be scared shitless too,” Sehun laughs. Jongin laughs despite himself. “Maybe you don’t have to tell him just… figure out some way to get him back there.” 

Sehun was right. At this point, Jongin had lost Minseok twice. All of the small stuff was gone. The way Minseok whistled as he cleaned, the sounds of his keyboard as he worked, the way he held Jongin’s hand when they made love. Without that, Jongin had lost Minseok for the second time. 

“Sehun,” Jongin murmurs, “I love you.”

Sehun chuckles, but it sounds watery. “I love you too, Nini.”

\---

“I don’t think this is going to help with my writer’s block,” Minseok grumbles, zipping up his dufflebag and shooting Jongin a dark look. Somehow, Jongin had managed to convince Minseok to go on an impromptu weekend roadtrip – nothing planned, just seeing where the road would take them.

“Can’t hurt to try, right?” Jongin tries to sound excited, tucking in his last few items, “I’ve been getting a little cooped up anyway.”

A few hours later and they’re on the road, Jongin choosing one of their old roadtrip playlists for the occasion. It’s the one Minseok had made for their very first roadtrip three years ago, when Jongin complained it was a moral failure they had been together for close to a decade but had never been trapped in a car together. The memory brings back warmth to Jongin’s chest. 

When they reach the countryside, Jongin looks over at Minseok. He’s staring out of the window, face expressionless. He catches Jongin staring, however, and raises an eyebrow in response.

“Do you want me to drive? You could rest a bit.” 

Jongin takes him up on the offer, knowing that Minseok would never sleep anyway. And if Jongin’s memory serves him right, they’re still a few hours out from the rundown pub he had visited that night. So Jongin dozes in the passenger seat with his feet propped up on the dash and his head against the window.

He wakes up a few times and each time he looks over to see Minseok with his hands firmly on the 10 and 2, face still impassive. Jongin doesn’t fully wake, however, until the sky is dark and they’re pulling out from a gas station that looks like it hadn’t changed at all in the past fifty years. The night is eerily silent aside from the purr of the engine.

With a shock, his heart jumps in his chest. He knows this gas station. He remembers it. They’re close.

A lump’s formed in Jongin’s throat as Minseok continues, closer and closer to the pub. 

It finally comes into view, the only building around for miles, neon signs visible from afar.

“Minseok,” Jongin whispers, sitting up straight in his seat, “Pull over at this bar here.”

He frowns as he does it, but complies without a word. He pulls into the tiny parking lot and leaves the car to idle. 

Jongin opens the door and steps out, adrenaline flooding through him at the thought that this was it. In just a few hours, Minseok could be back to normal, and Jongin could spend years and years of happiness between them. _This_ was the only thing that stood between Jongin and a decade of joy.

“What are we doing here?” Minseok grumbles, shutting the car door behind him. 

“Yes, what _are_ you doing here?” A voice says from the darkest shadow, tucked away in a corner. Both Jongin and Minseok start, but Jongin would remember that voice until the day he died. Baekhyun steps away from the shadow, still in his pinstriped suit, red hair unusually bright in the dark night. He’s still so self-assured, hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. 

Jongin’s chest burns with anger when he sees him. “Baekhyun, right?” He asks, and Baekhyun’s eyes seem to twinkle with amusement. 

“Jongin, what the fuck is going on?” Minseok hisses, eyes snapping between Jongin and Baekhyun wildly. Jongin ignores him, stepping closer to Baekhyun. 

“You’re a one of them, too, aren’t you?” Jongin asks, and Baekhyun laughs. 

“You’re not as dumb as you look, y’know?” Baekhyun smirks, hands in his pockets. He circles Jongin and Minseok, judging them with an appreciative look in his eyes. “So, why did you come back here?” 

“Because your friend screwed me over.” 

“Who? D.O.? He’s hardly my friend, more like my manager. And a pissy one at that,” Baekhyun explains, suddenly at Minseok’s side. His nose ghosts over Minseok’s neck and ear, breathing in his scent. “But it looks like you’re right. He _did_ screw you over. He can be like that.” He steps away from Minseok, further and further back, slinking back into the shadows of the bar. 

“So, what can I do?” 

“You can call him back, of course. What you can do about your hubby… Well, that’s a different beast all together, isn’t it now?” 

And with that, Baekhyun vanishes.

\---

Dirt and tiny pebbles get stuck under Jongin’s fingernails as he pulls at the dirt. The hole he digs is just deep enough to fit the new tin that Jongin had fashioned, following the same steps Baekhyun had showed him before.

“You’re still not going to tell me what’s going on?” Minseok asks, voice tense with anger. When Jongin looks at him, he needs to bite his lip to keep from letting out a whimper at Minseok’s appearance. He looks even worse under the night sky - red eyes with dark circles, skin sickly pale. 

“Can I ask why you had the _nerve_ to call me here?” The voice comes from behind Jongin and Minseok, causing them both to jump. It’s the same man - _demon_ \- Jongin met before, wearing all black and just as handsome as he remembers him. 

“I’m here because you fucked me over,” Jongin says when he finds his voice, looking between Minseok and the demon, “You didn’t do what you promised me." 

“Who the fuck -” Minseok starts.

“I followed through with my end of the deal,” D.O. says curtly. He raises his hand and snaps his fingers, and suddenly Jongin’s skin feels like it’s on fire, too painful for him to even scream.  

But it’s over just as quickly as it started, and when Jongin looks down he can see words etched on his skin in what appears to be red ink. They cover every single inch of his arms, the text too small to even read. He lifts his shirt and sure enough, there’s more writing there as well. It must cover his entire body. Minseok looks at Jongin with an expression of terror.

“If you read the contract, you’ll see I haven’t actually done anything wrong. Despite however you may feel,” D.O. says lowly. He picks at one of his fingernails, almost as if the conversation bores him.  

“You son of a bitch,” Jongin growls. 

“My mother was a lot worse than that,” The demon chuckles darkly, eyes glowing red. “You see, Jongin, when we made the deal you asked for Minseok to be brought back to life. And he is. You didn’t make any requests about his… condition.” 

Minseok and Jongin’s eyes meet for a long moment before Jongin finds the courage to speak. Minseok looks like he’s about to faint, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before appearing to give up. Jongin asks the demon, “What do you mean by his _condition_?”  

“Well, when dragging a soul out of The Pit, it is _possible_  that little bits and pieces get lost here or there. It’s frightfully complicated business getting a soul out of there, you see,” D.O. takes slow steps towards the both of them. “Now, if you had _asked_ me, I would have made sure that I brought back the one hundred percent original Minseok. After all, I’m a man of my word. Unfortunately for you, however, you didn’t make any specifications. He is Minseok, of course. Well, more or less.” 

More or less. A Minseok who can’t sleep, who can barely eat, who’s wasting away in front of Jongin with dark circles under his eyes like bruises. A Minseok who wants to love him but can’t offer a tender touch, can only remember how to run on primal desires. A Minseok who doesn’t do anything he loves anymore. Jongin’s fist clenches at his side as his mind whirls. 

“Fix him!” 

The words escape from Jongin’s mouth before he really thinks about them, but once they’re out in the air there’s no regret. The demon should fix Minseok. _Will_ fix Minseok, because if he doesn’t, there’s no way Minseok will live for the ten years Jongin was promised with him. 

D.O. rolls his eyes, hands in his pockets and says, “It’s not possible. The deal is signed and done.” He gestures to Jongin’s body and the ink on his skin flares hot as a reminder. 

“I want a new deal,” Jongin bites through teeth clenched against pain, “Make Minseok right and let’s make a new deal.” 

_That_  was amusing to D.O., who laughs heartily. He looks _cute_  when he’s not stone-faced or smirking and the contrast is jarring. He’s done as quick as he started, though he looks at Jongin with mirth in his eyes. 

“I already have your soul,” He reminds Jongin, stepping forward with an outstretched palm to cup Jongin’s cheek. He tries to flinch away, but D.O.’s grip slips behind his ear and tightens. “A human like you doesn’t have anything else to offer me.” 

Eyes hard, D.O. bores his gaze into Jongin. Jongin knows he should be scared, should be the shaking mess he was the first time he met the demon. The only feeling he has now is defiance - the overwhelming and all-consuming desire to fix this and have Minseok be whole again, no matter what it takes. 

“My soul is yours in ten years. You can have it sooner.” 

“Jongin,” Minseok gasps. Jongin tries to turn his head to look at him, but D.O.’s grip is too tight. Now D.O. is looking interested, his lips quirked into the tiniest of pleased smiles.  

“Mmm, I would love to get my hands on it. I’d have so much fun with you,” The demons voice is sultry, his other hand curling around Jongin’s shoulder to pull him even closer. “You’re so innocent. Innocent souls always take longer to break, but _oh_ do I love a challenge. So? When can I have you?” 

“Five years.” 

D.O. clucks his tongue, though he looks amused with Jongin’s answer. “Nope.” 

Jongin’s stomach drops, but he continues, “Three years.” 

“No.” 

“One year.” 

“We’re getting warmer…” 

Jongin belatedly realizes his hands are shaking. He’s gambling away his life to practically nothing. It’s clear that D.O. wants for Jongin to turn his soul over in a matter of months. Jongin isn’t sure that he can do it. He hears a small cry from Minseok this time, though D.O. still won’t let him turn and look at his husband. 

“Well, Jongin? Make me another offer.” 

A deep, rattling breath, “Six months.” 

D.O. mulls over it, deep in thought for long, painful seconds, before saying, “No. Three months. That’s my final offer.” 

A wave of nausea washes over Jongin. Three months? Three months was nothing - it would go by in the blink of an eye. He’d be gone before the end of autumn.

Jongin breathes quickly to try and help to soothe his stomach and mind. This was an even harder decision than the first time he dealt with the demon. He could probably have longer than three months with Minseok in his current state, though definitely not ten years with the way he doesn’t sleep or eat properly. But whatever amount of time that was, they would both be miserable. 

Three months with the _real_ Minseok… It was only three months, but it was better than nothing.  

“Okay,” Jongin’s voice is rough when he finally speaks, “Three months. Three months, and have Minseok forget all of this. And then you have a deal.” 

More pain occurs as his skin burned hot once again. D.O. forces Jongin’s head to look down so he can see the text on his arm changing shape - swirling and rearranging as it glowed orange in the pitch-black night. It’s still too small to read, but there’s a difference. As the glow and pain fades, D.O. forces Jongin to look at him once more. 

“There you go. The terms of your deal’s been changed. You have three months with him before you’re mine.” A smirk spreads on D.O.’s face, his eyes turning red once more. “Well? You know what to do.” 

Their lips meet with bruising force, and when Jongin tries to pull back, D.O.’s hand keeps him in place. The demon’s lips are plush and so soft, and he kisses with alarming skill. His tongue curls and plays at the corners of Jongin’s mouth before letting his teeth dig into the soft flesh of Jongin’s lower lip. An embarrassing gasp escapes Jongin, body heating with want. D.O. easily dominates the kiss, his fingers tangled tight in Jongin’s hair, and then it’s over.  

D.O. pulls back, a knowing smirk on his face, letting a thumb run over Jongin’s lower lip. 

“There you go, Jongin,” A snap of D.O.’s fingers and the words covering Jongin’s skip disappear in an instant, “I’ll run and fetch the rest of Minseok now. See you again soon.” 

When he disappears, an overwhelming, crushing silence falls upon Jongin and Minseok. Jongin can’t even turn to look at his husband. What the hell had he just done?  

A loud thump reaches Jongin’s ears and he looks over to find Minseok crumpled on the ground, head thrown back in a silent scream. Jongin kneels in front of him, tries to soothe Minseok with hands on his neck but flinches at the overwhelming heat radiating from Minseok’s skin. What probably last for a few seconds feels like hours to Jongin as he watches helplessly while Minseok’s soul gets put back together.  

All of the tension eased from Minseok and his head tips forward to rest against his collarbone, slumped in exhaustion. Jongin pulls Minseok into his embrace, arms wrapped tight around Minseok’s body. Head resting in the crook of Jongin’s neck and shoulder, Minseok’s tears fall against his skin.  

“Jongin?” He whimpers, eyes cloudy and brows furrowed in confusion, hands clenching around Jongin’s shirt. 

Their lips meet, the kiss salty with Minseok's tears. Both pour every ounce of emotion into it - love, fear, gratitude, anger - and when they finally part, they’re breathless. Minseok runs his fingers over Jongin’s cheek gently, his eyes already softer.  

Jongin drives the whole way home, with Minseok sleeping soundly in the passenger seat. He barely moves or makes a sound - too exhausted after days and days of sleeplessness. When they return home, Jongin carries him to the apartment, pulling him close to sleep together.  

 

****

**Two Months Later**

“Do you want blueberries in your pancakes?” Jongin asks, berries already clutched in his fist that hovers over the mixing bowl. Minseok pauses in his typing to look up from his laptop, glasses slipping down his nose in a way that is entirely too attractive. 

“Please!” He replies brightly, giving Jongin a smile before turning back to his work. Progress on Minseok’s book had been surprisingly steady, and the feedback from his editor on the past few chapters he submitted had been good. He hadn’t let Jongin read any of it, so he found himself content with the rhythmic typing that rang out in their apartment.  

Jongin finishes cooking, and the scent of the fresh pancakes convinces Minseok to close his laptop and take a break to eat.  

“These are good,” Minseok hums around a mouthful, “Thanks, babe.” 

“My pleasure.”  

“I figured we could order that chicken you like tonight,” Minseok says as they wash the dishes, hugging Jongin from behind. His hands are still damp from the dishwater where they rest against Jongin’s stomach. 

“You’re the best.” 

Minseok’s lips brush against Jongin’s neck, breath hot and fingers nimble when they slip under the thin fabric of Jongin’s shirt. Although his fingers tighten around the edge of the counter, Jongin relaxes against Minseok’s chest and sighs quietly when Minseok places wet, open mouthed kisses behind his ear. Minseok pulls a lobe between his lips, wets it with his tongue just as his fingers reach Jongin’s nipples. Jongin’s half hard in his sleep pants, fabric tenting with the strain of his erection. 

Jongin’s hands come to cover Minseok’s against his chest, rocking his hips back and meeting his husbands to feel Minseok’s hard length press between his cheeks. 

Minseok’s voice is low and rough, his forehead pressed between Jongin’s shoulder blades when he asks, “Do you want to take this to the bedroom?” 

Jongin moans and nods shakily, turning around in Minseok’s hold. His hands find their way to Minseok’s ass, cupping it gently as he pushes them from the kitchen and towards the bedroom. Minseok’s just short enough for his mouth to be at the perfect angle and height to suck a bruise under the curve of Jongin’s jaw, hands bunching up the thin fabric of Jongin’s t-shirt. 

When they reach the bedroom, Jongin steps away from Minseok long enough to pull off his shirt completely. Almost immediately, Minseok bends to take Jongin’s left nipple into his mouth, lavishing it with attention before switching to his right. Slowly Minseok slides to his knees, his cheek pressed against Jongin’s length. 

Jongin can hear himself gasping as Minseok rubs his cheek up and down his length, nuzzling at his balls with his nose. His hands are clutching at Minseok’s shoulders, trying to resist the urge to rock his hips. A dark patch of wetness blooms where the tip of his cock strains against his sweats. Minseok presses his tongue to it, his hot breath causing Jongin’s cock to jump.

“You’re so hard,” Minseok whispers, mouthing along the rest of Jongin’s cock, moaning quietly. Jongin whimpers as Minseok finally pushes down his pants, pushing Jongin so that he’s seated on the edge of the bed. The sight of Minseok between his legs is incredible. His tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and coy smile have Jongin sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. 

A warm tongue against his balls makes Jongin clutch at the hair at Minseok’s nape, tightening when he feels Minseok trail upwards to lap at the wetness at Jongin’s slit. It’s all the warning he gets before Minseok swallows his cock, nose close to the wiry hair of Jongin’s groin. His throat and tongue work over Jongin’s length, who can’t do anything but hold onto Minseok’s nape and shoulders. His breath is coming heavy and he’s practically doubled over, overwhelmed.

The signs of his impending orgasm become more apparent – the tightening of his balls, the hitch in his breath, the way his thighs flex. Jongin tries to push Minseok away, because he doesn’t want to come too soon, not like this, but Minseok only sucks harder, bobs his head faster. Jongin topples headfirst over the edge, coming with a low grunt down Minseok’s throat, who swallows it all down without missing a beat. 

He pulls away, licking at his lips like he just had the most delicious meal, wiping at the spit and cum that dribbled down to his chin. Jongin’s dazed and his arms and legs too heavy to move. Minseok finishes removing his pants for him, first one leg and then the other. 

“Good?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the inside of Jongin’s knee. He looks proud. 

Jongin doesn’t answer, instead licks at his lips and lets out a high pitch whimper. “I want you,” He admits, pulling on Minseok’s t-shirt until he finally pulls it off. The pants Minseok does himself, cock bobbing between his legs.

Jongin shuffles back on the bed until there’s enough room for Minseok to settle between them, kissing his way up Jongin’s stomach and chest until their mouths meet. The salty aftertaste of Jongin’s own release has him moaning, biting down gently on Minseok’s lower lip.

“How do you want it?” Minseok breathes, his fingertips trailing at the sensitive skin of Jongin’s thighs, teasing. 

“You know how I want it.”

“Yeah,” Minseok chuckles, fingers toying with Jongin’s perineum, “I do know. But I want to hear you say it.” 

Jongin arches his hips until one of Minseok’s fingers presses against his entrance, “I want you inside me, please. Please.”

Reaching for the lube, Minseok’s fingers return again slick and cool. He presses in with two fingers straight away, Jongin still loose from the night before. Jongin never stops feeling exposed like this, with his knees drawn up and his chest flushed and heaving. But Minseok makes him feel so safe, so warm, with the way his eyes lovingly trail Jongin’s body, his fingers gentle and his kisses butterfly soft. It makes Jongin want to expose himself _more_ – to bring out all of the dark, needy parts of him that he tries so hard to crush. 

So Jongin’s whimpers become louder, his breath hitched when two fingers become three and then four. He doesn’t even stop himself from begging and lets his fingers toy with his nipples and his slowly hardening cock. Minseok watches him with loving eyes, a soft smile on his face. 

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Jongin pants, hooking his arms under his knees to pull them higher. 

Minseok presses a kiss to each of Jongin’s cheeks as he slicks himself up before pushing in slowly, not stopping until he’s bottomed out. 

“You okay?” He asks, running his clean hand through Jongin’s hair, nails scratching against his scalp the way Jongin loves. Jongin arches his back and lets his nipples rub against Minseok’s chest, nodding wildly. 

Minseok starts slow and smooth, pulling back completely before thrusting back into Jongin. The hand in Jongin’s hair moves to cup his cheek and Minseok kisses him sweetly, letting his tongue slip into Jongin’s mouth as he rocks steadily. It feels so good to have Minseok inside him and around him, so sweet and gentle and dogged to please. 

Their lips separate enough for Minseok to ask, “Does it feel good, baby?”

“It feels so good,” Jongin moans, trying to angle his hips up to change how Minseok enters him. It works, and it goes from feeling good to feeling amazing. Minseok begins to move faster when he sees the look of pleasure on Jongin’s face. Jongin’s cock is also fully hard now, getting just the slightly bit of friction with the rocking of Minseok’s hips. 

Minseok’s mouth is hot and wet against Jongin’s collarbones. His hips are flush against Jongin’s, grinding in fast, hot circles.

Although Minseok is smaller he’s always been so strong, and in just a moment he’s flipped them so Jongin is on top, hovering over Minseok. 

Minseok’s hands fold behind his head, eyes appreciative as they rake up and down Jongin’s body. He bites his lower lip when Jongin rocks experimentally, but doesn’t make an attempt to move. Jongin’s in complete control, moving his hips this way and that to find what he wants best. A pose like that would make anyone else look cocky, but instead Minseok looks patient and loving. 

“You’re beautiful. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” He tells Jongin as he starts to bob up and down on Minseok’s cock, “I love you,” He continues, and Jongin runs his hands tenderly across Minseok’s chest. 

Faster and faster, Jongin is getting wound tighter and tighter. Each movement has Minseok right where Jongin wants him. He’s fully hard now and leaking, cock slapping against his stomach and leaving a wet patch. Minseok’s chest is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, breath shallow. 

“Touch yourself,” Minseok groans, stomach tensing under Jongin’s palms. With a nod Jongin complies, enclosing himself in his right hand and letting the precum gathered at the tip help the slide. Jongin lets out a full-bodied shudder at the sensation, so sensitive from his earlier orgasm and the feel of Minseok inside him. 

“C’mon,” Minseok breathes, finally unfolding his arms from behind his head to touch Jongin’s sides gently, touch almost ticklish. “I know you’re so close, baby.”

A few more strokes and a tight grind has Jongin spilling over his fingers. Having come earlier it’s not much, but the orgasm leaves Jongin breathless with curled toes and hunched shoulders. Minseok holds Jongin by the hips and thrusts quickly, brow furrowed as he focuses on his own release. When he comes it’s with a small cry and his lower lip tight between his teeth, filling Jongin. 

“Clean me up,” Jongin pouts after a few quiet moments, and Minseok chuckles quietly.

“You’ll need to move if I’m gonna do that.”

With a huff Jongin rolls off Minseok, cum seeping from his ass as he does. Minseok sits up to reach the box of tissues beside the bed, taking a few to wipe at Jongin’s hand and between his legs. 

“I love you,” Jongin murmurs, pulling a pillow under his head. With a smile, Minseok cups his cheek and leans in to press a light kiss to his mouth. When he pulls back Jongin struggles to blink back tears, his throat tightening. 

“I love _you_ , Nini. What’s wrong?” 

Jongin shakes his head and tucks his forehead underneath Minseok’s chin, trying to will the tears away, because this is what he wanted. He wanted these few weeks of selfish indulgence with a countdown on his soul. Didn’t he?

Minseok holds him close, his fingertips dancing along the skin of Jongin’s back. Eventually tears escape from Jongin, and he feels so much resentment towards himself because he can’t even these last few weeks be perfect. His chances to lay with Minseok, to whisper and laugh and doze off with their arms and legs entwined were dwindling. Dwindling fast and Jongin was ruining it with his tears of self-pity.

“Do you remember the first time you met my parents?” Minseok asks out of the blue. Jongin nods. Of course he remembered, it was the most horrifying day of his life. Jongin lets out a short laugh at the memory. “I know I told you it was a secret, but. The book I’m writing? It’s a story about a couple like us. Two scared gay kids who meet and grow up together. That’s why I haven’t let you see it. It’s kind of embarrassing.” 

Jongin wipes at his face, tucking himself even closer. “So, you wrote about how I vomited in your parents’ spare bathroom and dirtied my sweater?

Minseok laughs, “No, I left that part out. I figured you’d be upset. Just how nervous you were and how they ended up loving you so much. Then again, who couldn’t love you?” 

Jongin feels so warm and full when he hears Minseok’s words. “You’re the one who’s easy to love.”

Minseok pulls back enough to press a kiss to Jongin’s forehead. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree, Nini. Now, chicken?” 

They eat shirtless on the sofa, rewatching the last episode of their drama because Jongin had fallen asleep halfway through. Minseok licks the mess from Jongin’s fingers, and Jongin kisses the grease from Minseok’s mouth. After they shower together, they lay in bed with their foreheads nearly touching. 

Jongin takes a deep breath and smells the fresh smell on the sheets Minseok had washed yesterday, the smell of Minseok’s aftershave and the shampoo they share. It was comforting. The day had been comforting. 

It was good to have his last days with Minseok be so normal. Jongin didn’t regret anything, not even his choice to not tell Minseok about what he had chosen to do. Minseok didn’t deserve to question his right to live until the end of his days. 

Minseok would mourn, he would be angry, but he would heal. His work would touch thousands – millions – and win awards. He would carry Jongin in his heart, but he would live and love again. Jongin was sure of it. 

Minseok was so strong and brave – everything Jongin was not. It was what made the two of them so good for each other, and what made Minseok so worthy of life.

And the few weeks that Jongin had left – he knew where they would lead. But he would embrace them, cherish them, welcome them and take everything they had to offer.

A howl sounds from outside, somewhere in the distance. As far off as it is, Jongin feels like it echoes in his bones. 

“Did you hear that?” Jongin whispers, sitting up in bed. He feels like every hair on his body is standing up. Minseok’s hand rests against his lower back, warm and comforting.

“I didn’t hear anything. What was it?”

Another howl. “That. That howling sound. You don’t hear it?”

“No,” Minseok says quietly, clearly fighting off sleep. “I didn’t hear anything.” 

Settling back against the pillow, Jongin tries to relax for Minseok’s sake. But every so often he hears the howls, and fights back the feeling of panic and the sensation of nausea. With every howl he hears, he has the feeling that they’re getting closer and closer. 

A howl sounds from right outside the building, this one more resonant and haunting. Jongin’s skin feels like it’s aflame, his head like it will burst.

And as soon as the howling began, it stops. The silence that follows is eerie, unnatural, and as hard as he tries, Jongin can't sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it this far, thank you
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/moshimoshh)


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